Friday, February 22, 2008

somethin's happenin' here

It seems there has been some sort of internal shift. For the good. I realized that I haven't been blogging for fear of waking the apparently sleeping beast within. I feel calm, happy and content. Shhhh! Not so loud! I read this book set in the 1400's and it made me think about how little we need to exist, really. In the book there was a distinction made between porridge with salt and porridge without. Salt in the porridge was a treat. Seriously. I guess what I am trying to convey is the sense of simplicity that has taken over. I am cooking a lot. Soups and stews and peasanty stuff. Making cookies with honey and stone ground wheat and oats. 15th century gourmet. I am really reluctant to examine it much further for fear of over-thinking it, so, good-day and anon.

Friday, February 8, 2008

Phi Kappa Ella

Living with Ella is like living with a four-foot tall frat boy. A frat boy who is really into puppies, but still. She is loud, makes obnoxious sounds with her body and trashes whatever room she is in. She will often throw her arm around my neck, delirious with laughter and slur,"I love you, Mom!" while licking my face. Plus, she is always happy to show you her naked ass. 

She is comfortable in her body and mind in a way I don't think I ever was. She does not censor herself. She doesn't give a damn about being nice to people she doesn't like. She sees no reason why she cannot have whatever it is that she wants at any given moment. These things send the parental parts of me into a panic. I want to squash that selfishness. I want her to be kind. But another part of me looks at her with something like awe. She is not trying to impress anyone. She is 100% Ella. I am almost intimidated by how cool that is. If I am lucky and brave, maybe we can meet somewhere on her side of the middle. I need to become much more like her than she needs to be like me. 

Wednesday, February 6, 2008


"I think that's what it's all about. When you possess the courage-- or blunt, gourd-smacking stupidity-- to be totally candid, you silently amass thousands of allies. It's the "me too" effect. As Steven Morrissey (Esq., Demigod) says, there is no such thing in life as normal. And if you walk around pretending to be normal, hiding your scars and incisions and putrescing wounds, you only further the Conspiracy of Normal, which exists to make us all feel like shit."-Diablo Cody
To which I can only add, "A-effin'-men, sister." Just a couple days ago I was asking Bridget why we suddenly lust after the contents of the Pottery Barn catalog. When did start to want to be normal? I'm not even sure if that's the heart of it-it's more like seeking approval. I mean, I feel a little anxious about the prevalence of Stephen King in my book collection when new folks show up at the homestead. WTF? Why do I want them to think I am anyone other than who I am? I am overwhelmed by this whole notion of fitting in suddenly. Maybe it is because I don't fit in size-wise that I feel compelled to prove my okay-ness in other ways. Maybe it is from growing up with alcoholic parents that I want it to appear as if everything is okay at all times. Ultimately, it is me not being okay with me that makes me feel no one else would be okay with me either. That's gonna stop. 

Tuesday, February 5, 2008

It Happened!

Good day! I had an actual good day yesterday! I had fun with the kids! No crazy battle royale over homework! I ate like a human being and I exercised! YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!
See, this proves my point that happy is boring. I mean, it's fun while it's happening, but then it leaves me anxiously awaiting the other shoe, if you know what I mean.  Hence my life long love affair with clinical depression-an emotion I can count on.

Monday, February 4, 2008

Magic Eye

Sometimes I am startled by how crazy I am about my kids.  I worry that I am squandering this time with them, wishing for time to myself. I wish I knew how to find that balance between time to be and restore myself and time to devote myself wholeheartedly to them. I find that because there is so little time for me, I feel as if I am always pushing them away. The end result is I never really get a break and they get a very worn out Mama a lot of the time. But I am starting to think that what is really wearing me out is constantly resisting my life as it is. When I stop trying to get away, I see my life as a different place. It reminds me of Spiderwick or Arthur and the Invisibles. All these wonders just waiting for me to see them .